


The only truth that sticks

by purple_cube



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1358851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_cube/pseuds/purple_cube
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cracks begin to appear in the façade that is life in District 12 following the war. Post-Mockingjay, pre-epilogue AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The only truth that sticks

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Prompts in Panem on Tumblr, Round 5 Day 5, for the prompt Captivity. I originally had this idea for day 3, Fantasy, but did get to write it in time.

 

Katniss kills the wrong president. Peeta protects her from herself, and the world spins on around her while she waits for it all to end.  
  
Only, it doesn’t. She is exiled to the wasteland that is District 12 – not with her mother, the only family that she has left, but with Haymitch. Haymitch, who has more ghosts haunting him than she does, and who never expected her to live beyond the first two days of the 74th Hunger games.  
  
And really, that should have been her first clue.  
  
*  
  
 ** _Week 4_**  
  
Nurse Maesa is approaching the room when Dr. Aurelius slips a piece of paper on top of the food tray in her arms. She glances at it before turning her gaze to him in interest.  
  
“Patient Mellark painted it yesterday. I’m curious to see what her reaction will be.”  
  
The nurse nods. “I’ll give you a minute to get into position.”  
  
He gives her a small smile before making his way to the observation area and taking a seat in one the chairs that line the one-way mirror. He watches as the woman enters, the tray balanced on one palm. Inside, the patient shows no indication to suggest that she is aware of her visitor.  
  
Nurse Maesa talks in the same voice that she uses with all of her patients – bubbly and bright and so very Capitol. It’s the reason that he doesn’t let her anywhere near Patient Mellark. “Good morning, Katniss. How are you feeling today?”  
  
Still Patient Everdeen ignores her presence, keeping her back to the mirror and, presumably, her gaze fixed on the manufactured horizon that lies outside the window. Through the mirror, the nurse gives him a small shrug and drops the tray onto the table with a light thud. As an afterthought, she places the painting on one side before leaving with a shrill _see you this afternoon, dear_.  
  
The patient doesn’t move even after the door locks with a sharp click. She is clearly in her own world, and he shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, knowing that this could be a long day.  
  
His eyes are fluttering shut when she finally walks away from the window.  
  
She moves immediately to the picture, as if she had known that it was there all along. She picks up the piece of paper with her right hand, then traces the left forefinger across the surface. Outside, the doctor scribbles hastily into the notepad that he had brought with him.  
  
 _09:08 Patient is observing the painting, tracing the flowers with her hand. Does she recognize the painter, or the flowers, or both?_  
  
Her lips move to give him the answer, even if no sound is emitted. _Peeta_.  
  
The notepad drops to the ground with a clunk as he hurriedly gets to his feet. He has an idea.  
  
Two hours later, the entire medical team lines up at the observation window. Nurse Valens treads slowly towards the door, his hand clutching the manacles that bind Patient Mellark’s wrists together. Beside him, the patient shuffles heavily. He is no doubt tired from the physical activities that are a mainstay of his morning schedule.  
  
Valens looks across in his direction moments before they reach the door, exchanging a quick nod.  
  
They enter the room silently, the nurse leading Peeta to the center before retreating to stand a few feet behind him.  
  
Katniss turns to them sharply. “You’re back,” she says in surprise.  
  
Peeta’s attention is caught by the painting that still hangs from her hand. “Dr. Aurelius wouldn’t let me leave until yesterday,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the yellow flowers that were created by his hand. “I painted those for _her_.”  
  
She nods. But a moment later, she scurries to the corner of the room and sinks down, curling into a ball, the painting scrunched up in her hands. Valens looks into the mirror, and Dr. Aurelius knocks on it twice. _Time’s up_.  
  
*  
  
 ** _Week 5_**  
  
Predictably, Mrs. Everdeen had been against the idea of contact between his two patients.  
  
“He tried to strangle her.”  
  
“He had made a lot of progress while in District 13,” he had pointed out.  
  
“And Gale said that he still turned on her when they came to the Capitol,” she had countered.  
  
He had sighed. “I am proposing one or two minutes a day where they are in the same room. A guard will be there with them and will intervene if either show a negative reaction. Given that Katniss has failed to acknowledge Mr. Hawthorne, Mr. Abernathy and yourself each time you have visited, I think that this is worth a try.”  
  
Haymitch had groaned from his chair. “Let them give it a shot. If anyone can get through to her, it’s the boy.”  
  
Now, it’s Mrs. Everdeen who pushes for the meetings and occupies the prime location at the center of the observation window.  
  
Peeta enters first, Nurse Valens trailing slowly behind him, pushing the door closed before taking up his usual spot in the corner closest to the exit.  
  
The tray of food that had been left earlier lies on the table, and together they sit and eat in what Aurelius describes as _comfortable silence_ in his notes.  
  
“I’m going to go hunting,” she says unexpectedly when their plates are clean.  
  
Peeta’s mouth twitches into something that could have once been a smile. “That’s good. I think I might paint for a little while. See you for dinner?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
When Valens leads Peeta out, Katniss returns to her usual fetal position in the far corner, only unfurling when the door is unlocked once more.  
  
*  
  
 ** _Week 6_**  
  
“They should be kept together.”  
  
Mrs. Everdeen – Ruth, she insists after so long – gives Haymitch an incredulous look. “You don’t know –“  
  
“I know _them_ ,” he practically hisses. “I saw them at their worst, when they were so afraid and so alone. When they were being sent to their deaths. They can help each other. They _will_ help each other.”  
  
Haymitch turns his attention to the young woman in the observation room, who at least spends more time upright and walking around than she used to. Her mother had tried to tell her that it was her birthday yesterday, but she still hasn’t acknowledged anyone’s presence – or words – but Peeta’s.  
  
“We can start by increasing the length of the time they spend together this week,” Dr. Aurelius offers. “If – and I do mean if – co-habitation looks like it will be a possibility, then we will keep him handcuffed for the first few days and two guards on standby, one inside and one outside the room.”  
  
“She does seem to be improving,” her mother mumbles. Turning to him, she swallows hard before speaking. “Start with the longer sessions. We’ll take it from there.”  
  
The next day, Peeta stays in the room for five hours. Katniss cries as she writes down a description that he recognizes to be the death of District 11 tribute Rue, reading her words aloud as does so. All the while, Peeta paints a picture, and when he holds it up to show her, they all see that it is of the little girl that Katniss had befriended instead of killing.  
  
When Peeta is led away, Dr. Aurelius turns to his patients’ guardians. “I’m going to try talking to her again.”  
  
She looks across as he enters. “Peeta told me to call you,” she says. “You can start treating me now.”  
  
*  
  
 ** _Week 7_**  
  
“Start again from the beginning.”  
  
“My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am seventeen years –“  
  
“Eighteen.”  
  
She nods as if she remembers now. “I am eighteen years old. I live in District 12 with Peeta Mellark and Haymitch Abernathy. I was exiled for killing the president. My sister is dead and my mother lives in District 4.”  
  
“That’s good, but I want to try something new, Katniss. I want you to close your eyes.”  
  
She doesn’t.  
  
“I’ll know whether or not you’re taking this seriously, Katniss,” he warns.  
  
She sighs and does what he asks.  
  
“I want you to picture everything around you that you saw a moment ago. Describe it to me.”  
  
“I’m sitting in the armchair in the first reception room, where the phone is that I’m calling you from. It’s a bright day, the sunlight is coming in from the window. Peeta came over for breakfast, but he’s gone back to his house to bake some bread that we can eat later. I haven’t seen Haymitch since last week.”  
  
“Okay, that’s enough for now. Can I describe my surroundings to you, Katniss?”  
  
She shrugs, but keeps her eyes closed. “Sure.”  
  
“I am in a hospital room. The walls are white, nearly bright enough to hurt your eyes when you first wake up in the morning. I am sitting on a bed that is covered with crisp, white linen. There is one long mirror along the wall behind me, a small table with two chairs in the corner and a small wardrobe in the corner opposite. The window in front of me shows a green meadow outside and some woods in the distance.”  
  
He waits for a minute to allow all of the details to sink in. “Can you picture this?”  
  
“Yes,” she replies.  
  
“I want you to keep this picture in your mind, Katniss, as you open your eyes.”  
  
He knows that she is following his instructions, because her eyes are wide with panic as they flitter from left to right and back again, taking in her surroundings.  
  
“No,” she whispers in horror. Suddenly, she is on her feet and racing to her favorite corner of the room. “No!”  
  
Her body is curled into a tight ball by the time he gets there, and he hovers above, trying to get through to her. “You’re being held captive by your mind, Katniss, in a world that doesn’t exist.”  
  
She uncoils her upper body but continues to rock back and forth, holding her palms against her ears. He sighs, glancing apologetically at the mirror, and what lies behind it, before leaving. As he enters the hallway, Haymitch shoves him against the wall, and he notes weakly that the other man’s strength is returning now that he is over the withdrawal symptoms of his alcohol abuse. “What did you do?”  
  
“I know it looks bad –“  
  
“You don’t say,” he growls.  
  
“She saw me, Haymitch,” he argues with more passion than he knew he had. “She saw me and the rest of the room. She saw reality, if only for a moment.”  
  
*  
  
 ** _Week 8_**  
  
It happens so frequently now, that it doesn’t surprise him to find both Ruth Everdeen and Haymitch Abernathy asleep in their seats beside the observation mirror. Dr. Aurelius makes a note to put in a request for more comfortable chairs.  
  
Inside, it seems as though the two patients are resting on her bed. Despite the fact that a second bed was moved into the room once their co-habitation has been signed off, it has never been used. He makes another note to request one, large bed.  
  
“Any news?”  
  
He looks down to see Ruth watching him carefully, probably mistaking his note-taking on furniture for something far more important. Sighing, he shakes his head.  
  
“I’ll be starting joint sessions later today,” he reveals as he sinks into an empty chair. “The fact that they have both been progressing since they have been in contact with each other is promising, but it may not mean anything long term.”  
  
Beside her, Haymitch stirs before jerking into an upright position with large eyes and hands grasping for some imaginary object. Dr. Aurelius had suggested counselling to all of the former victors at some point in District 13, and every one of them had scoffed before turning him down. _Some wounds are just too deep_ , Haymitch had said.  
  
“Will they ever fully recover?” The voice belongs to Ruth, who is staring through the glass with a wistful expression.  
  
“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “Peeta’s hijacking was unprecedented, as you know, and with everything that Katniss has been through –“  
  
“We know what they’ve been through, Doc,” Haymitch says, his frustration clear as he pinches the bridge of his nose.  
  
Ruth reaches across to touch his arm, and Haymitch gives her a small nod before taking a slow breath. “The fact that they’re having breakthroughs, if only for a minute or two, that’s gotta mean something, right?”  
  
“It does,” he says, trying to reassure himself just as much as them. “But there’s still a long way to go, and I don’t want to give you any false hope.”  
  
Haymitch chuckles grimly. “Hope. That’s the one thing those damn kids gave me that I never wanted. The one thing that I can’t give back to them.”  
  
*  
  
Inside the room, Katniss and Peeta lay together on the narrow bed, limbs tangled while he stares at the ceiling and she buries herself into his neck.  
  
“What if they’re right?” she whispers. “What if we really are crazy?”  
  
He sighs. “Does it matter, at the end of the day?”  
  
“Yes,” she responds, but uncertainly.  
  
“I don’t think it does. Think about it. There are only two possible realities – our and theirs. Let’s start with ours.” He takes a deep breath, something he always does when they do this. “My name is Peeta Mellark. I am eighteen years old. I live in District 12 with Katniss Everdeen. I am in love with Katniss Everdeen.”  
  
She takes up the challenge. “My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am eighteen years old I live in District 12 with Peeta Mellark. I am in love with Peeta Mellark.”  
  
His breath hitches. She has never said that final sentence out loud.  
  
“My name is Peeta Mellark,” he begins shakily. “I am eighteen years old. I am in a mental health unit in the Capitol. I have been classified as mentally disoriented. I have only seen glimpses of this reality. I spend most of my time imagining that I am rebuilding my life in District 12 with Katniss Everdeen.”  
  
“My name is Katniss Everdeen. I am eighteen years old. I am mentally disoriented. I only see moments of reality, fragments that are white and sterile and lifeless. I don’t like it, so I pretend to live in District 12 with Peeta Mellark, where no one can hurt us.”  
  
“Which one is real, Peeta?” she asks in a neutral tone. No fear, no frustration. Just curiosity.  
  
“I don’t know.” Without looking, his hand finds her and he laces their fingers together. “But the one thing I do know is that _you’re_ real. The doctor didn’t say anything to suggest otherwise.”  
  
She stirs, raising her head from his chest. His attention drops from the ceiling and onto her face, and he mirrors her small but pleasantly surprised smile. “That’s true,” she murmurs. “That means that you’re real, too.”  
  
“So that means that we’re together in both realities,” he argues. “And isn’t that what matters?”  
  
He says it with conviction, but his eyes betray his insecurity.  
  
She reaches down to kiss him softly before meeting his gaze. She waits until he wears a smile to match hers before answering. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

 


End file.
